


Under the Christmas Lights

by Get_Wrexed



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, As in they're happily married, Beelz is a pain in the ass, Bondage, Chair Bondage, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Christmas fic, Decorating for Christmas is a lot harder when your spouse is an absolute gremlin, Dom Beelzebub (Good Omens), Dom/sub, Human AU, Humor, Ineffable Bureaucracy, LITERALLY, Married Life, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Other, Smut Fic, Sub Gabriel (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), antichristmas zine, good omens - Freeform, merry christmas you filthy animals, rockin around (on top of) the Christmas tree (archangel), wholesome smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28294464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_Wrexed/pseuds/Get_Wrexed
Summary: “Can’t you just- just-,” Gabriel began before pausing, taking a deep, measured breath that trickled out his flared nostrils on the exhale, “Can’t you just decorate something properly?”Pale blue eyes grew dark and dangerous, reminiscent of dangling icicles overhead. The room chilled, scratching a shiver up Gabriel’s spine. A sharp-toothed grin blossomed across Beelz’ face, fingers twining into the string of lights in their black-pointed fingernailed clutch as they hungrily circled their prey.“Oh yes,” they purred with a sweetness strong enough to mask an unforetold spice, “I think I could do that.”* * * * *My contribution to the Antichristmas Zine with 1400+ words of bonus smut because we deserve some sin on this Christmas. A human AU in which Gabe and Beelz are married and yet our archangel still hasn't learned his damn lesson on being careful what he wishes for.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: AntiChrist-mas Zine Collection





	Under the Christmas Lights

Water and oil. Hot and Cold. Angel and Demon.

Only Gabriel and Beelz weren’t anything as poetic as that. 

They were simply two people who were polar opposite in every conceivable way, and, as polar opposites are wont to do, they snapped together. Two magnets of mismatched shapes that felt the pull nonetheless. 

Beelz was charged with chaos and passion. They had a terribly imposing aura despite their quiet, observant nature, the sort that only evil geniuses waiting for their plans to unfold can obtain. Their magnetism was palpable, waiting beneath the surface. Their living was that of an oddities trader and taxidermy artist, a deep-seated enthusiasm that settled down to their bones. There was something thrilling, after all, about taking something beautiful away from the gory reality of death. Beelz thought life was for living. Entertainment over obligation. Passion over planning. They’d do whatever they pleased whenever they felt like it. 

Gabriel was charged with order and reason. An overly-friendly, entirely facetious exterior didn’t do much to hide the persnickety control-freak within. He was a meticulous planner. An overbearing critic. Focused on the here and now and impressions and reputation and obligations. He was the kind of person who scheduled time to relax on his vacation itinerary and strategically planned snooty dinner parties to make subtle ‘adjustments’ to his social circle. He contributed to their partnership with his devoted career as a celebrity physical trainer and dietician. 

The disparity was distinct, present in every avenue of the life they’d constructed out of years of finessing the push and pull of their relationship. It was obvious in its bones. In the fact that their house was in the artistic district of town, but the nicest one in it. Historied on the outside with high turrets and a wraparound porch but renovated with the most modern layout and sleekest fixtures on the inside. The fine art of the hallway hung up next to shelves of mysterious specimens in jars and cases. Parties in which hors d'oeuvres were served upstairs amongst highbrow intellectual conversation while profane shouting during beer pong matches could be heard from downstairs. Pictures all throughout the layout of their home featuring a smug, clean-cut fitness god next to an itty-bitty goth gremlin. 

Beelz would make grand, mildly disconcerting plans, and Gabriel would reel them back in to the point that they might be realistic (and perhaps a bit safer for all involved parties). Gabriel would make ridged, obsessively-detailed schedules, speckled with refined details no one could possibly notice or care for, and Beelz would bring just enough spontaneity to make the prissy bastard have a bit of bloody fun. Beelz would win most battles, far more stubborn of the two of them, but to retain their enjoyment of ‘take’, it took the occasional budge of ‘give’. 

Which was why, on December first, they allowed their poor home to be bastardized into a blinding monstrosity of American holiday consumerism. Well, that was the start of it, anyway. The start of three days straight of hideous plastic light-up reindeer being staked into their lawn. Gabriel clambering all over their house like a blasted steroid-addled raccoon to string up a frankly ridiculous amount of pure-white lights so blinding that Beelz was sure would make their eyes liquidate in their sockets. Tacky wreaths hung on every window, sporting pure white and gold ornaments and tidy tinsel accents. Just when Beelz had come to believe (or hope, rather) that the desecration of their lovely old Victorian house was over, he’d started on the trees. The shrubs. 

Was nothing sacred? 

By the time he made it inside, they put their foot down, deciding that was _quite_ enough of that. If he was going to vomit holiday cheer all over their pretty haunted house, Beelz was going to pepper it all with blatant pagan elements like a dog pissing on a tree. His mother would pitch a fit on visiting, have a dramatic wail in the loo over the waste of her son on a ‘possessed, creepy little demon sent straight from Hell to corrupt him’. 

Beelz would be sure to delight in it. 

Of course, Gabe likely wouldn’t be keen on their mastermind plot, but Beelz had discovered early on in their marriage that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

Naturally, he was keen to disagree when the tidy silvery blue tinsel on the tree was switched out for dark red and black ribbons. The pretty crystal ornaments with their shiny silver bows were infiltrated by carefully hung animal bones and little ouija board planchets they’d hand made for the cause. Beelz’ bizarre works of taxidermy art were lined up on the mantle, each wearing their own little hand-made Father Christmas hats. 

They were moving quickly- far too quickly for their slightly stroking-out husband to keep up with as he followed after them in a desperate, harried attempt of adjusting their mischievous vandalism of his meticulous, Good Housekeeping Magazine-worthy vision.

Gabriel had finished dismantling the hay-stuffed Father Christmas Beelz had chucked off the roof, leaving him hanging limp with a string of lights fastened around his shiny boot-clad foot (a successful distraction!) when he came to discover the shenanigans they’d brought to life in the living room. He stood over Beelz’ shoulder, incredulity sketched into each tired line of his typically beaming face. Icy blue eyes turned up to fix him with a proud look that grew all the more smug at the sight of his hair, disheveled from fussing fingers tugging unforgivingly through its meticulously styled locks. 

“Absolutely not.” 

A pout found its way to Beelz’s mouth as they fixed him with a gloomy glare. 

“Why not? You said ‘festive’! It’s festive!” 

They turned back to their work of art, a wire-framed pentagram wrapped in a thick layer of garland.

“That is _not_ festive.”

“Well I’ve not done the lights yet, you ‘aven’t seen it properly finished,” Beelz defended, biting their cheek as they leaned back on their haunches to admire their scrupulous work. 

“None of it’s going to be finished!” Gabriel exploded at last, swinging his hands wildly, “And you’re going to take down all this ridiculous- ridiculous- _rubbish!”_

“‘Rubbish’?” the smaller figure purred in delight, standing to their full height with a pop of their ankles. They hummed gleefully as they strided over to the neatly-wound pile of Christmas lights, digging out a rare multi-colored strand from the bottom of the heap, “Hell’s bells, Gabriel, you’re going native.” 

A great big bluster of something akin to a sigh barrelled out of the muscled figure behind them. They turned to innocently admire the frustration on his face, the way he rested a hand on his arm and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. 

“Can’t you just- just-,” he began before pausing, taking a deep, measured breath that trickled out his flared nostrils on the exhale, “Can’t you just decorate something properly?”

Pale blue eyes grew dark and dangerous, reminiscent of dangling icicles overhead. The room chilled, scratching a shiver up Gabriel’s spine. A sharp-toothed grin blossomed across Beelz’ face, fingers twining into the string of lights in their black-pointed fingernailed clutch as they hungrily circled their prey.

“Oh yes,” they purred with a sweetness strong enough to mask an unforetold spice, “I think I could do that.” 

Gabe’s chest heaved slowly as they approached. A loosened strand was lassoed around his neck, and he found himself tugged down several centimeters, hunched over, and nose-to-nose with his partner. He was pulled into a kiss, slow and deep and steady, more exploratory with each surge, but there was a lurking danger underneath.

They parted, and he found Beelz midway through pulling off his shirt. With a heart rate spiked in anticipation banging away in his ears, he yanked the fabric of the expensive item off without a care in the world. With a shove, he fell back into a chair sitting in the center of the room where Beelz had been hanging glow-in-the-dark bats overhead (with little bells hanging from their necks with red ribbons, of course). They clambered to straddle over his knees, grasped his face roughly in their hand, and tugged his chin up to stare into his eyes. 

“As good a canvas as any, I’d say,” Beelz purred, “Be a good boy for me?” 

“Why should I?” he bit out. They both knew he’d get it, for that. 

“It’s almost Christmas, love. You’ve been so good all year. Do you really want to chuck it in the bin by being naughty?” 

“And who are you to judge? Santa Claus?” he asked defiantly, a shapely brow cocking to deliver a dubious glare. 

A wicked grin sprawled across their features, and they leaned down to deliver a playful nip to the tip of his nose.

“More like Krampuzzzz.”

“And the difference is?”

“Oh, well, punishment from Krampus is a bit more…,” the strand of lights was snapped taut, the sound cracking through the air and shooting a shock up Gabriel’s spine, _“corporal.”_

“I’ll be good,” the words poured out of his mouth on a shuddering exhale.

A happy buzz of a hum resonated through the room as Beelz shifted behind Gabriel, trailing fingers through his hair in silent praise. 

They set to work in a fashion not unlike that they’d just been in minutes prior. A quiet focus set in as they wrapped the string of lights round Gabriel in tight bouts, the little bulbs and woven wires biting against the bare, muscled flesh of his chest and arms. Expertly crafted knots were arranged when necessary in a dance nearly as old and practiced as their marriage. With them came the formation of a web of calm safety, trapping Gabe inside it and turning his mind into a pleasantly blissed out chamber of drifting, distant thoughts. How could he not? The power of their full, undivided attention was more intoxicating than any drug. 

Occasionally, Beelz would hum along to the Christmas music playing in the background, or stand back to admire the progress of their handiwork. When they at last became satisfied with the manner in which he was bound to the chair from both behind and below, they rustled around behind him, unplugging the tree in favor of illuminating a more awe-inspiring sight. With a flick of a switch, the many strands holding Gabriel fast within their tidy rows and netting blinked to life. 

A chaotic smile reached Beelz’ face as they stalked slow, well-pleased circles around their partner, drinking in the beauty of his aroused helplessness. His face was flushed, and as they gazed into his violet eyes, they found them filled with a far away satisfaction. 

“Aren’t you pretty? Decorated _quite_ properly, eh?” 

After a time, Gabriel appeared quite distracted, and Beelz let out a low, happy laugh, raising a hand to pat his cheeks. A strangled noise of affirmation poured past his lips. With a playful affection, they bumped his nose with their own. 

“When you’re lit up like this, wrapped up all for me, it’s like I’ve caught an angel. Maybe I should leave you here until Christmas. I can unwind you first thing, unwrap you like you’re something precious and then play with you all day until I get bored.”

A husky, protesting moan rumbled from Gabriel’s chest, and he attempted to pull forward in a chase for his partner’s lips. They pulled away just enough to remind him who, exactly, was in control, flashing an enamored grin traced with playful wickedness as another gravelly groan of objection sounded. 

Never one to take issue with indulging in a bit of sin, they dipped forward at last, giving him a kiss that was something much more vicious than before. It was bruising. It was aggressive. It was an artful gnash of tongue and teeth. It was exactly what he wanted. 

Beelz’ hand dropped to the bulge in his trousers at last, palming at it generously. Their lips parted at last, the both of them panting excitedly into one another’s mouths. 

“You’ve been as good as you promised, I suppose I can reward you early.” 

With a hungry whine of approval on Gabriel’s part, Beelz at last dropped to their knees between his trapped thighs, making quick work of unfastening his trousers. He gasped as his cock was freed from its fabric prison, half-hard only at the beginning, as it came eagerly to attention while Beelz coaxed it with ease. A hum escaped them as they took their time admiring it, rubbing their thumbpad in exploratory patterns over his weeping tip. 

After what seemed like an eternity of teasing to both parties, Beelz leaned forward, peppering kisses up their husband’s shaft and delivering a lavish lick to the ridge below his cockhead. No words poured from his mouth; they never did when he was like this, but Beelz was quite familiar with the language of his moans and gasps. He needed more, and they _had_ promised him a reward. 

In one fell swoop, they took him over halfway into their mouth, edging just at the back of their throat. They started at an achingly slow pace, stroking their hand to meet each plunge downward with their mouth. Just as he would start to reach a climax with a pace, they would pull away, stroking his thighs and humming to the music with their lips just scarcely tracing his cock, imparting insufficient vibrations. When he calmed to a reasonable level, they would dive back in at a faster pace than before. 

By the time he was finally reduced to whimpers and trembling, they took him as far as they could manage, hollowing their cheeks and swirling their tongue at his head on each upstroke. When he reached his precipice, arching against the strands of the lights trapping him so hard they creaked, tilting his head back, eyes rolling in his head, Beelz pulled away, resting a cheek on his knee and grinning wickedly up at him as they squeezed the base of his cock. 

Perhaps there were benefits to being planning and preparation. After all, if they’d have thought of this sooner, they might have had a bottle of lube stashed away. They could have kept it just within reach so they might work their fingers inside him, neglecting his red, throbbing cock and working him off on the two fingers they kept the nails of tidily trimmed short, teasing him for minutes on end before finally deciding he’d earned his pleasure. 

Then they looked up at his handsome, sculpted face, and with a surge of disorienting delight, they found tears streaking down it. 

He whimpered, doing a fairly impressive job of making a sound akin to “please”, and Beelz’ cold blue eyes grew softer, warmed with arousal and adoration. They raised to their feet, this time their knees popping, and rested their palms on his muscled thighs to lean over, squeezing indulgently as they bumped their nose against his. 

“‘Please _what,_ love?” 

It took him a good amount of time to gather his faculties to respond, ruined and desperate and aching, and if Beelz wasn’t so high on the delicious power of having put him in that state, they might have pitied him. 

“Please let me come,” he managed out. 

A pleased hum rumbled in Beelz’ thin, flat chest, and they tugged loosely at his lower lip with a thumb before slipping it into his mouth, delighted as he instinctively responded by sucking on it. 

“I know how hard it is for you to beg, so I suppose I’ll be merciful. Do you want my quim?” 

By the way a violent shudder worked up his spine and a whine spilled from his lips, they assumed that had been a whole-hearted, resounding _yes._

They pulled away making quick work of yanking off their pants and kicking them carelessly to the side, left only in their oversized comical “Hail Santa” Christmas sweater and their fishnet socks. He wasn’t the only one they were indulging; the process of edging him, taking him apart, keeping him helpless and disappointed and making him _beg_ always got them wet and starving. 

Beelz gracelessly clambered onto Gabriel’s lap, lacing their fingers into the soft brown locks at the back of his head and yanking it back unkindly, forcing him to bear his throat. They gave a toothy, dangerous grin into his face as they arranged him under them and sank down onto his thick arousal. 

A harmony of moans slipped from both figures at once, and Beelz shuttered with delight, biting their lower lip. 

Gabriel’s eyes were fogged and distant, indicating that he was in another galaxy entirely, perhaps even in a different time as his spouse began roughly rocking their hips together, working him inside them, experimenting with the angle.

“Mmh, is this what you wanted, then? What you were aching for?” Beelz growled, digging their teeth into the soft flesh beneath his jaw and sucking bruising marks in their wake, pulling out all sorts of embarrassing and degrading moans that they could only imagine would shame Gabriel forever should his mates hear them. 

“Kinky bastard, aren’t you?” they teased. 

“ME?” Gabriel erupted indignantly, snapping out of it for a moment, and Beelz erupted in hearty laughter that only died when they thrusted down in such a way that made their hand loosen and both of their foreheads fall together, the pair of them panting hearty moans into each other’s faces. 

Having found that perfect, sinful angle, they worked at it harder, sounding their own pleasured grunts and cries as they thrusted their favorite toy against that spot in a frantic fit of satiating their hunger. 

Gabriel was close, and after countless scenes for practice, Beelz’ could tell. They weren’t so far off, themself. They grabbed a broad shoulder for dear life with one hand and slid the other downward, spreading their own lips and gathering slick on two fingers before roughly jacking their clit off between them, giving them that extra spark of pleasure that drowned them alive. Their brain might have short-circuited had they not known they needed to think for the both of them. Still, they shamelessly chased the ecstasy, high on the delicious act of _taking._ Beelz’ muscles burned, screaming with the effort of bucking down onto their husband’s cock, and both of the pair were radiating heat, a sheen of sweat on their brows. 

“You know the rules,” Beelz growled out through gritted teeth, their toes curled where their feet fixed firmly on the chair legs’ connecting beams, “Me first, or I’ll ruin it for you.” 

Gabriel gritted his own teeth, too, brows twisted with monumental effort of keeping his orgasm at bay as Beelz rode him absolutely ragged. He kept his eyes shut, knowing the image would push him over the edge- the image of his spouse using him for their pleasure, rubbing themself with their fingers, that face they always worked so hard to keep cold and distant turned soft and pink and vulnerable with him being the only person blessed enough to witness it. 

“Fucking- !” Beelz choked up, their abdominal muscles trembling and thighs clenching as their thrusting slowed, disintegrating into a stuttering roll of their hips. Their jaw fell open, their lashes fluttered shut, and they gasped out through their orgasm, brows knotted at the frustration of their fingers rendered unable to keep up. 

Gabriel couldn’t see it, but he knew exactly what he was missing- could _feel_ his Dominant convulsing around him, writhing above him, their pointed nails digging and scratching unforgivingly at his shoulder. He shivered at the now painful self-denial. 

Beelz opened their eyes, seeing this for themself. If asked or challenged, they would unwaveringly claim that his pleasure didn’t matter, that it was just a consolation prize for him succeeding to get them off. But the years had made them so embarrassingly soft. Their marriage had brought to life the impossibility of sex not being about merely _getting off_ , and whether they would admit it or not (and they never would), they knew where their priorities lie. 

Beelz abandoned their own orgasm, fighting the exhaustion of their protesting legs to slip off of their husband’s straining, nearly purple cock and settling themself back down on his thighs. They wasted no time in grabbing him in their hand, roughing jerking him off. It lacked finesse, but that was well enough; finesse wasn’t what he needed. He needed something fast and attentive and _satiating._

Within seconds, he came with a cry, thick ropes of spend splattering on to his lower belly, and convulsed on his chair through an orgasm he was thoroughly worked off throughout. Only after the climax of it did Beelz slow their pace, twisting their wrist and massaging his hypersensitive cockhead and slipping downward to stroke his aching bollocks, pulling out soft gasps and moans until he had almost entirely flagged. 

Beelz shushed Gabriel through the end of it, relenting some soft praises so absolutely embarrassing he would be outraged to suffer them when clear headed but _ached_ for them now. He collapsed into his bindings, thoroughly fucked. Indulgent little nuzzles and kisses were delivered to his flushed face as he regained his breath and his thoughts. Small hands massaged his chest and shoulders, pushing out the last bit of tension that was held there. 

“Feeling a bit less tightly wound, love?” Beelz asked at last, a teasing note in their voice. 

“You have no fucking idea,” Gabriel laughed breathlessly, tilting his forehead against his partner’s, “Merry Christmas.” 

“It’s December First.”

A huff of irritation and something that was akin to (but he would be indignant to admit _was_ ) a pout fixed itself on his face. Beelz gave him that self-satisfied, smug, mischievous grin that could only ever be the bane of his existence. Although, over the years, in an infuriating phenomenon he couldn’t explain, an undeniable adoration had snuck in there, growing only stronger over time until the obnoxious fuckwad smile was his favorite thing in the world. Cruel and twisted. Should have been illegal, really. 

_“Happy_ Christmas,” Beelz relented, ceding to that little bit of “give”, but as ever, they were unable to keep themself from the attempt to grind at his nerves- their own personal brand of affection. 

He gave them another huff for their effort, feigning irritation, but the smile on his face rather gave him away.

“Yeah. That too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, folx! I hope you enjoyed it~ 
> 
> This project was so much fun to do, and I was spoiled to be able to collaborate with the most talented and wonderful WaldosAkimbo on this project, who did the gorgeous illustration you'll find in this fic! It was such a treat to work with them ^^  
> Their AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo  
> Their SFW Twitter: https://twitter.com/WaldosAkimbo  
> Their NSFW Twitter: https://twitter.com/waldos_smut
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment! This is my first one-shot (I am wholly devoted to multichapter mammoths of works) and it was a lot of fun <3 Here I thought writing anything less than 6000 words would make me explode ;P


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